


Sketchbook

by w00pss



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Artist!San, Artsy San, Coffee date, College Student Yeosang, College Student!Yeosang, Cute, Drawing, Fluff, I had to write that it’s too cute, I think I fell in love with artist san while writing this, M/M, OS, Sketchbook, sketch - freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 05:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w00pss/pseuds/w00pss
Summary: In which the reward for returning a lost sketchbook is “A coffee date with a grateful stranger”.
Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Sketchbook

**Author's Note:**

> San and Yeosang together really give off a cafe vibe, maybe it’s just me, but I just can’t help it. This is honestly sickeningly cute… Don’t get too sick and ENJOY djfjfjdjfj

Finals were done, the sun seemed to radiate serotonin and the atmosphere was worth a soft grin on Yeosang’s face. Summer was welcoming him, pushing stress off his broad shoulders. His friends had proposed to hang out at the pool to use the nice weather at its best, but he had declined, as he had always enjoyed the first day after finals alone. It was kind of a ritual and he never really felt the need to break it, maybe because he was used to it by now, or  _ maybe _ because he actually liked to have a full day for himself without plans, without stress, nor pressure. Without anything, actually.

Yeosang woke up early, as if his body tried to focus on his school schedule now that it didn’t matter, and decided to go skateboard at a park near his dorm. It was usually empty, so there couldn’t be any more perfect plan.

Weaving on the thin road through the trees, locks of hair brushed off his forehead by the delicate wind, was something he truly liked. It was nothing big, but it’s exactly why it was so special to him. As Yeosang turned once, twice and thrice around the park, his eyes didn’t focus on anything but the fog of mixed colors surrounding him. 

Until his gaze lay for a second on an occupied bench. The occupant was small, but its frame was sharp and rectangular, easily noticeable by its bright red. Yeosang stopped, frowning at it. Why was a sketchbook left alone on a park’s bench?

He approached, carefully seizing the bench’s occupant between his dainty fingers, and opening it hesitantly. As soon as his gaze brushed the first inked page, he felt like he trespassed on a new world. As if just by looking at the first trifling sketch, he had stolen a part of its soul. His mouth dropped open as he turned the pages. He felt like he was getting to know someone. The drawings were messy, filled with errors, crossed by frustrated graphite lines, hatched to mold them in the neighbouring sketch’s background, halfly finished, weirdly displayed on each page, but perfect. They were so perfect.

Each line traced was mesmerizing, holding Yeosang’s full attention until another one did. Every unique imperfection was trapped in the paper’s grain, making the whole sketchbook so much better. Whether it was an ink smudge, a dried tear, fingerprints captured by an excess of graphite or a paint stain, every detail had its place on the pages.

When Yeosang landed on the last drawing of the unfinished sketchbook, he paused. A boy was in the middle of the page, on his skateboard, looking up to the sun, a hand protecting his eyes from the bright light. A couple of trees were laying their shadow around him, barely brushing his shoulders. It took Yeosang a good five minutes, during which he was stuck on this familiar scene, before realizing  _ he _ was the one who had been drawn.

A slight heat rushed to his cheeks, adding to his widened eyes. He looked up, trying to locate the exact tree, which he easily found. But as soon as his gaze stilled on it, he closed the sketchbook. He shouldn’t be looking at those drawings. They weren’t his. They were someone’s world, someone’s work, someone’s hidden emotions, someone’s treasure. They certainly weren’t forgotten on this bench to be displayed to anyone and to be looked through by a stranger who couldn’t even realize how precious those sketches were.

He looked at the last page and found a note written messily, stretching an amused grin on his lips. The owner of this treasure was disorderly until the end. He could almost imagine their bedroom’s floor being covered with more or less clean clothes, their window halfly opened just because they forgot they had decided to let new air fill the room and candies peeking from their brushes’ pot, or hiding in a pile of sheets, or even under the bed.

_ Dear intruder,  _

_ If you read this it means I’m probably in a mental breakdown. Honestly, I for sure am. Luckily, you were the finder of my mental breakdown’s healer; this sketchbook! Please return it to me, it would mean the  _ **_world_ ** _ for me to get it back. Contact me as soon as possible, I’m getting short on tears to cry!! _

_Reward_ ~~_($)_ ~~ _ : … A coffee date with a grateful stranger (me)...?  _

  
  


The message was cute. Really. Somewhat, it forced Yeosang to chuckle because, oh god, the sketchbook’s owner really  _ had _ to be clumsily cute. 

So without a second to lose, he texted him.

> _ Hey, I found your sketchbook. I guess you want it back? _

The reply was immediate

> _ Omg, yes PLEASE!! _

> _ When and where do you want to meet up? _

> _ What’s the most convenient to you? _

> _ This afternoon, after lunch.  _

> _ 1pm it is, then!! Thank you so much!!! _

> _ Oh, and at the cafe by the campus’ park, I want my coffee date, I crave a free iced americano ;) _

> _ Alright, my treat~ _

  
  


To say Yeosang’s smile was big was  _ totally _ an understatement, and it stayed glued on his face until he sat at one of the cafe’s tables. The one he had chosen was in the corner, far from the door to avoid the endless client’s back and forths, but right by a large window to feel the sun hitting warmly his fair skin. Yeosang left the sketchbook on the table for the stranger to be able to locate him. 

He didn’t wait for very long; a couple of minutes later, a man placed three plastic cups on the table: one iced americano, one iced latte and one cup of water. 

“Hi…”

Yeosang rose his gaze from his cell phone for his eyes to meet the man’s. His face had sharp features, but it was sculpted in such a lovely expression that he just looked friendly and  _ cute _ . Oh yeah,  _ definitely _ cute.

“H-Hey.”

“You said you wanted an iced americano, but if you want anything else, just tell me.”

“Oh, thank you, but I didn’t meant I-”

The stranger laughed Yeosang’s shy explications away.

“I really owe you more than just a coffee, come on.”

“It’s fine. Take a seat.”

The man pushed the water and iced americano cups to Yeosang.

“With the heat you better drink some water with caffeine,” he shyly explained.

“Y-Yeah… Yeah, of course. Thank you. My name is Yeosang, what’s yours?”

“San!”

Conversation flowed, punctuated by laughs and jokes. They quickly felt at ease with each other, going past the light awkwardness of meeting a complete stranger. Neither of them had planned to stay there for so long, but they ended up occupying the two same seats until the sun went down with a warm orange light. 

Yeosang had easily understood San was just like his sketchbook; clumsy, messy, funny and unique. A mix which, honestly, ended up stealing a part of the older student’s heart. When San had taken back his treasure, Yeosang could’ve  _ sworn _ the younger one’s eyes were filled with stars.

“I think I should go back to the dorm… My roommate will be mad if I don’t clean up my mess before he’s back,” San laughed.

“Yeah, it’s getting late.”

They both got up, but before the younger man put his sketchbook in his bag, he paused for a second. He then opened a page and held it out for the other man to look at it.

“It’s you.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows rose as he detailed a fresh drawing. He hadn’t even noticed San had drawn him while they talked, but it was  _ clearly _ him, almost printed on the page. Graphite was covering the paper, tracing his eyes crooked in crescents by his cheeks rising in an honest smile, sunlight brushing his face.

“That’s really pretty,” he whispered in a breath, amazed. “You just did that?”

The artist nodded with a shrug.

“It’s easy to draw well when the model is beautiful,” San responded with a wink.

Yeosang turned his head away, face suddenly burning hot.

“Then how can you explain the fact that I wouldn’t be able to draw you? Your theory doesn’t make any sense.”

San laughed to cover his shyness.

“Alright, let’s head back to the dorm. Where’s your room?”

“Second floor.”

They left the cafe, San walking and the other on his own skateboard, a hand on the younger one’s shoulder to keep his balance with the slow pace. Conversation bloomed again as the artist intentionally walked a bit slower, hoping for this moment to last even more. When they arrived in front of Yeosang’s room, they looked at each other for a while without a word. However, the silence was quickly covered by their own soft laughs, echoing in the empty corridor.

“I’ll text you, we better hang out soon. And thank you for the sketchbook.”

“Of course, have a good night,” Yeosang answered, opening his door.

San started to walk away.

“Hey, San?” the older one called out.

“Yeah?”

“This afternoon was really fun.”

The artist’s face beamed with happiness.

“Really.”

Nearly two months later, Yeosang discovered San’s dorm room really was how he imagined it. 

“This is a mess, I fully understand your roommate.”

“Hey, he’s not _that_ _much_ tidier than me. Plus, it’s not _that_ bad,” San pouted, scratching his eyebrow.

“San… You just covered your forehead with graphite,” Yeosang sighed, his shoulder leaning against the window’s frame. “Come here.”

The artist obeyed like a puppy, approaching until they were centimeters apart, closing his eyes and crooking a smile. Yeosang rubbed off lazily the greyish substance staining the younger one’s face.

“Done.”

San opened his eyes, his grin fading into seriousness as they held an eye contact. Their breath hit each other’s skin. Yeosang could feel the younger one’s gaze burning through him. 

Time didn’t stop like in movies. The clock continued ticking annoyingly, but none of the two moved. None of the two moved until a lock of dark hair fell in front of Yeosang’s eye, interrupting what was supposed to be only theirs. San took a slight step forward, as if they weren’t already close enough, and raised his hand to smooth the strands of hair to the back of the older one’s head, away from the moment they currently shared. 

And as if he wasn’t scared, the artist dived on the other’s lips, capturing them delicately. Yeosang stumbled, arms hanging roughly around the younger man’s neck, back hitting the window, and— Oops, the window wasn’t fully closed.

San pulled Yeosang in an embrace just in time to prevent him losing his balance, as they both laughed quietly at their clumsiness.

Yeosang shifted to the side so that his back leaned against the wall instead, binding the artist in another kiss, eyes lidded and brows slightly furrowed. Their forehead connected softly when they pulled apart, lips lightly swollen and short on breath.

“Thank god, I removed the graphite from your forehead.”

San chuckled as an answer, keeping the other man locked in his arms just a bit longer. When they released the embrace, both of them were too shy to gaze in each other’s eyes.

“Look, I really appreciate you. Really. And it’s actually more than just  _ appreciate _ ,” Yeosang started.

“It’s okay if you don’t want anything more, ‘Sangie. I don’t want to make you feel pressured in  _ any _ way.”

“I don’t really know what I want, honestly. Would it be okay if we… took it slowly? Like if we take the time to know more about each other?”

“Of course. Tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t. Never. You wouldn’t.”

“Even that kiss?”

“Oh  _ god _ , no. That kiss was perfect.”

They stuck to the “take it slowly” resolution for a day, maybe two. But honestly, going slowly really wasn’t worth anything when they were cuddling for hours and multiplying jaw kisses just because “Kisses on the lips are not allowed yet, Choi San!”

So without even having to verbally agree on it, they became boyfriends, and the younger one could finally steal the other’s lips as much as he wanted.

“‘Sangie?”

“Mmmh?”

“I’m so,  _ so _ glad I lost my sketchbook.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Please leave kudos/comments if you did, it’s really heartwarming…
> 
> Inspiration really hit me and I wrote it so quickly, but weirdly, I’m very satisfied with this OS. To be honest, I enjoyed writing this story so much, artsy San and college student Yeosang was one good mix of mine, I hope you loved it as much as I did! I have more stories to come...


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